


anywhere away with you

by stonesnuggler



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Didn't Know They Were Dating, Erie Otters, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonesnuggler/pseuds/stonesnuggler
Summary: This hasn’t really happened to Connor in a while, this whole time-jumping thing. He can remember all of them, usually -- they’ve always been pretty important moments that he jumps to, so they’re hard to forget.Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he reaches for his phone and unlocks it, swiping until he hits his calendar to confirm that, yep. 2021.At least it’s the future this time.[Or: Connor can jump through time, he can never control it, and he thinks he's on the outside looking in on his best friends in love. Hethinks.]





	anywhere away with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liroa15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liroa15/gifts).



> happy polyhockey liroa! 
> 
> I loved your idea of time travel and also erie because #erieforeverottersforlife so i kind of ran with it. hope you enjoy! 
> 
> big big thank you to b, my beta extraordinare, and to l and my g's for forever being my cheerleaders.
> 
> title from anywhere by rita ora

It’s a perfectly ordinary Thursday when Connor wakes up in his Edmonton bedroom. 

Except for the fact that his hair is a good three inches shorter than it was when he went to sleep, he’s in a bed that could easily fit him and two more him-sized humans, and he fell asleep in Erie, Pennsylvania. 

This hasn’t really happened in a while, this whole time-jumping thing. He can remember all of them, usually -- they’ve always been pretty important moments that he jumps to, so they’re hard to forget. 

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he reaches for his phone and unlocks it, swiping until he hits his calendar to confirm that, yep. 2021. 

At least it’s the future this time. 

He’s jumped around enough times to know the major things that happen for him -- Edmonton, his collarbone, winning the Hart. So, Edmonton isn’t the surprise, not in the slightest. 

The surprise is --

 

**Alex DeBrincat** 7:43am 

I don’t know what to get Stromer for his birthday 🙄

 

Which, like, he should. Even Erie-Connor knows that these two are attached at the hip and likely will be for years to come. He’s seen Dylan getting traded to Chicago, seen Alex get the C and Dylan wear his A, seen the two of them holding hands on their couch of their house in Chicago while Connor picks at the label of his beer bottle. 

He’s seen Alex DeBrincat be in love with Dylan Strome for a long time. 

**Connor McDavid** 7:47am

Don’t know how I could help with a present for your boyfriend, Brinks.

The typing bubbles on Alex’s end haven’t even popped up again before Connor feels the familiar spin in his head, opening his eyes to his iPhone 5 in his Erie bedroom.

  
  
  


At first, like usual, Connor thinks the jump was a dream. He knows there’s not going to be many surprises on the whole Potential-Saviour-of-Edmonton front, but coming back after seeing that life is always a little jarring. 

It’s weird to know how your life will happen before it’s even started, is all. 

 

/

 

It’s only a little weird to see them in the locker room that day, in the absent way when you dream about someone.

But this is more than that. This means more than that, and he knows it, he just doesn’t know how. 

Well, he does know, to an extent. He knows that they’re his best friends, he knows that they’re basically already in the height of their romantic tension and something is going to give  _ really soon _ (he’s seen it. It’s sappy and gross). 

He knows that he’s into them. Both of them.

What he doesn’t know is what to do about it. 

He doesn’t have much time to think about it before Stromer is blaring his horn in front of the Catalde’s, which he only does when he knows they’re already gone for the day. 

Alex is with him, because of course he is, and he’s sometimes the only reason Dylan does the sensible thing like, you know, pick up the phone to let Connor know he’s outside. This is obviously not one of those times where Alex-Logic wins out.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Dylan says as Connor is clipping his seatbelt. He does hand Connor a coffee cup as soon as it clicks together -- Timmies, probably a double-double, because he’s nothing if not thoughtful.

If he’s a little quieter than usual on the car ride over, he’ll blame it fatigue instead of admitting that he’s watching Alex’s hand twitch toward Dylan’s where it’s resting on the gear shift. 

/

Taylor can tell as soon as Connor drops his bag at his stall that he jumped last night. 

He usually can -- anyone who has the ability to jump can read the signs of a jump hangover like the back of their hand -- which is why Connor isn’t surprised when Taylor glides up next to him at the first water break of practice.

“Edmonton again?” Taylor asks, low enough for just Connor to hear.

Connor nods, reaches for a water bottle. “Yeah. Only a split second and it wasn’t even about the Oilers.”

Taylor’s eyebrows quirk up and Connor already knows that his eyes are settling on Dylan and Alex when he looks look past Connor’s shoulder. He’s  _ definitely  _ said too much.

“You’re not subtle,” Connor says, then squeezes his bottle at Taylor before taking a long drink from it. 

Taylor’s not even phased by the water splashed in his face, just wipes it off and snorts a laugh. “Neither are they,” he says. “Just say something, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

_ ‘They’ll think I’m weird and perverted and trying to insert myself in their relationship’  _ Connor thinks. ‘ _ And then I’ll lose my best friends right before I’m about to get drafted to bumfuck Egypt, Canada, so maybe it’s best to just--’ _

“Alright, alright, slow down the gears, bud,” Taylor says, snapping Connor out of it. “I’m sure you’re coming up with every bad thing right now, but--”

“Raddysh! Quit distracting McDavid and get your ass to drills!” Coach belts from the other end of the ice and Taylor instantly straightens and moves to skate away. 

“Talk to them,” he says, whacking his stick against Connor’s shinpads before he goes full stride to join the drill.

Connor sighs, lets his eyes wander to where Dylan and Alex are near center ice. Dylan’s on one knee and Alex is next to him, leaning into his side and using his shoulder as an armrest. 

/

Talking to them isn’t going to happen.

He doesn’t want to open that can of worms, okay? If Connor had it his way, he’d be able to shove down this stupid crush and let it run its course and not feel anything even vaguely romantic about these two ever again.

Honestly, he wishes he could do that now, but apparently even seeing Stromer shove twenty-six mini-marshmallows into his mouth, or see Brinsky go through his extremely superstitious morning game day routine all sleep-stupid and grumpy  isn’t enough to kill that.

So, he’s not talking about it. Not to them, anyway. 

“Heads up!” Connor hears, but it’s too late because there’s a ball of tape launched at his shoulder anyway. 

“Space cadet Davo over here,” Brinksy is saying, fond smile on his face as Dylan sits next to him doing that stupidly cute wheezing laugh that only happens when he thinks something is  _ really  _ funny. 

“What?” Connor manages, shaking himself out of the bubble of Dylan’s infectious happiness.

“Tonight? ‘Chel tourney at Raddy’s?" Alex says, and the tone alone gives away that it’s not the first time he’s said it. 

Connor nods. “Yeah, no, I’m there,” he says, because he was planning on going anyway. Plus, if he backs out now, Taylor won’t let him hear the end of it. 

“Duh, you’re on snacks,” Dylan says, finally calm enough to form real words. 

Connor sighs, but still manages a small smile. He’s always on snacks.

//

They’re not even through picking teams for the ‘chel tourney before Connor gets sucked right into another jump. 

If Taylor thought he was bad after one jump -- if  _ he _ thought he was bad after one jump -- Connor can’t wait to see how dead he feels after two in less than twenty-four hours.

It’s bright when the fog clears, like a hotel lobby. Connor’s seen enough of them to gather that even as things are coming back into focus. 

The air is tense, charged with something he can’t quite place but makes his skin shake all the same. 

Dylan and Alex are in front of him, beer bottles in hand that match the one on the coaster directly in front of Connor. 

It must be playoffs, Connor gathers. Nondescript hotel lobby, Alex looking vaguely werewolfish and Dylan trying his hardest to get something going in the facial hair department. 

They’re wearing chains around their necks, twin ones, with shining silver bands hanging from the metal links. Open, out there for anyone to see. 

“You gonna hate us if we win?” Alex is saying when Connor’s brain comes back online. He’s got a soft smirk on his face; just brave enough to be determined enough to find out, but subdued enough to show that he doesn’t really want to know the answer.

Against his own volition, Connor shrugs. “Pretty sure I could never hate you.” 

Alex’s smile curls into something inching more toward real and then everything goes black. 

/

“Yo, you good?” Dylan is saying, waving a hand in front of Connor’s face. Back in Erie then.

Connor blinks, squeezing his eyes shut tight before opening them again. 

“Yeah, I think I just need air,” he says, pushing himself up from the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

“Nah, I could go for air too,” Dylan says, and then he’s up, too, following Connor out to the back porch.

Alex is out there with Maksi already, solo cups in hand as they talk. 

“I’m actually--” Connor starts, but that gets Alex to spot him.

“Davo!” Alex says, soft smile making its way onto his face. 

“Last time I checked, anyway,” Dylan says, and Connor has to groan. 

“That’s such an old joke,” Connor manages, but he laughs a little anyway. 

It’s hard not to feel like that around Dylan. 

 

//

Connor’s next jump is similar to his others, but different in the way that he very rarely has more than one in one week. He’s also usually in the comfort of his own space instead of crashing on the futon in Alex and Dylan’s billet basement-turned-bedroom like he is tonight. 

Even then, he’s only a little surprised that he wakes up older, with a few more aches and pains than he can account for from his time in Erie, and his hand on the doorknob of a house that he’s sure isn’t in Edmonton.

He turns the knob, pushes the door open and lets himself in -- that was going to be the natural order of this jump anyway, and he learned the hard way what happens when you try to change things.

Broken hands. Lost championships. Near misses of game-winning-goals. Just to name a few. 

He’s toeing off his shoes when he notices the murmuring, how the sound spreads warmth from his chest all the way through his body. He can’t help but smile that feels both forced and natural as he makes his way down the hall. 

There’s a pull that turns him left, into a wide open living room and it’s only then that he realizes that he’s not alone.

He can’t see Dylan, what with Alex being on top of him and all. They’re both shirtless, lips kiss-bruised and hair messed up, lending absolutely no other explanation as to what they’ve been up to. 

Connor’s found that he doesn’t mind the jumps when they involve seeing the Alex and Dylan of the years to come. Not much has changed, really, but Alex -- well, the beard really does it for Connor. So does the traces of ink along his skin that wind up both arms, the way he’s filled out thanks to the NHL. 

He’s already beautiful in Erie, but this? This  just isn’t fair.

It’s Dylan that pokes his head up first, eyes a little wide, and Connor’s pretty fond of this sight, too. Even at twenty-three, the mess of curls and patchy facial hair, the sideways smirk that embodies a canary-catching cat. His chest aches with it any time he sees it. Dylan, happy, in his element. 

Dylan, Alex, together. Beautifully. 

Alex clears his throat, and Connor watches the blush form at the apples of his cheeks, spread down the column of his neck and splotch across his chest.

“Hey,” Alex says, and he doesn’t sound like he’s been caught. Connor might even call it smug. “You’re back early.” 

Connor goes to open his mouth, and then the world around him gets sucked away, replaced with the cream drywall of Dylan and Alex’s basement.

It’s nearly pitch black aside from a streak of light coming in through the storm window, but even from that he can still tell that Dylan’s bed is empty, made up exactly how it was when they got here.

He can still tell that there’s more than one person in Alex’s bed.

 

/

 

“You didn’t talk to them,” Taylor says, matter of factly. He managed to wait the whole walk over to Timmies from the EIA before saying anything, which Connor is legitimately impressed with.

Connor shrugs, sets his backpack down at one of the tables while Taylor does the same. 

“I don’t get why I’d need to,” Connor says. “I don’t want to make it weird.” 

Taylor sighs, but drops it just long enough to get their coffees ordered. He’s sliding the change in his pocket when he finally speaks up again.

“Listen, dude,” Taylor starts, which typically means that he means business. “You’re into two guys and you have a high probability of landing them both.”

“You barely passed the probability section of maths last year,” Connor says, flippantly, mostly as a distraction tactic. 

Taylor rolls his eyes. “As if Alex Wang didn’t do your homework every section for the last term you were in school.” 

Connor shrugs. That’s true, but still -- “Not the point.”

“You’re right, because the point is that they’re into you, you’re just ignoring it because you don’t want to see it,” Taylor says, pointing a finger at Connor. 

“I’m not ignoring anything!” Connor says, a little indignant because there’s nothing  _ to _ ignore. Dylan and Alex are so wrapped in each other; they would never even stop to give Connor the time of day. 

“You’re afraid,” Taylor says, eyebrows raised in challenge. “You’re scared they’re going to reject you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor says, picking at the plastic of the lid on his cup. “I’m not afraid.” 

“No?” Taylor says. “Prove it.” 

Connor looks up, and barely has a second to read Taylor’s face before he’s grabbing Connor’s arm and the room gets sucked away from around them. 

//

Everything’s blurry, just for a second but when Connor’s eyes start to refocus, Taylor’s right there next to him. He knew Taylor jumped differently than he did, but this -- This is much more different than he expected. 

It’s a little more jarring than his usual jumps -- he’s a bit dizzy and everything is still a little hazy around the edges even when he can focus on one thing. 

Pretty cool, though, he’s not going to lie.

“What the fuck are you--” Connor starts, finally finding words through the breathlessness, but Taylor smacks him in the arm.

“Just watch,” he says, pointing in front of them.

They’re back in Connor’s Edmonton bedroom, from the first jump this week. Future-Connor can’t see them -- well, at least Connor’s pretty sure he can’t, because he knows himself and knows that if there were two teenagers that spontaneously appeared in his room, he’d probably be a little startled.

He watches as Future-Connor’s phone pings, getting the message from Alex, watches as he reads it and types out the response. 

“I’ve seen this, it’s just him asking what he should get Dylan for his birthday,” Connor grumbles.

Taylor shakes his head. “You didn’t see all of it.”

Curious, Connor turns back to what’s unfolding in front of him.

His phone pings again and he sits down next to Future-Connor to read the message.

 

**Alex DeBrincat** _ 7:49 am _

Because he’s your boyfriend too, dipshit.

 

Connor reads it over a couple times, makes sure that what he’s reading is exactly what it says before he looks up at Taylor.

“That’s not--” 

The phone pings again, then one more time.

  
  
  


**babes**

**Dylan Strome** _ 7:51 am  _

I know u two are texting abt me ur not subtle.

**Alex DeBrincat** 7:52 am 

what’s the point of having 2 boyfs if we can’t sneaky plan bday stuff for you

 

“Oh my god,” Connor says, but Taylor just grabs his arm and they’re off again. 

 

It’s the hotel lobby, when the dust settles.

They’re behind Dylan and Alex, looking at Future-Connor. 

“The Hawks win this series, I’ve seen how this plays out,” Connor says and Taylor shrugs. 

“I haven’t, keep watching,” Taylor says and points to Future-Connor where he’s tucking his fingers underneath his collar and pulling a chain from underneath his shirt. 

It’s identical to the ones dangling from Dylan and Alex’s necks. 

“Well, good,” Dylan says, “because you might be a bit stuck with us.”

“Twist my arm,” Future-Connor says, extending a foot out and hooking an ankle with Dylan’s under the table.

 

“See?” Taylor asks, gesturing toward the three of them. 

And, like, he does see. He sees the look on his face as he looks at Dylan and Alex, then when he shifts to see them, sees the same fond-eyed look in return. 

He doesn’t know how he’s been missing it until just now. Well, realistically he probably explained himself out of seeing it -- they were  _ just  _ looking at each other all lovey-dovey, there’s no way that look can get shifted that fast when they turn their attention to Connor, right? 

“ _ Yes, Raddy, I totally see the fuckin’ light now,” _ Taylor says, voice far higher than Connor’s. “‘ _ I’m going to send you all the fruit baskets with my bigtime NHL contract.’  _ Aw, thanks, Davo. You don’t need to do that.” 

“Shut up,” Connor says, amused. “You’re gonna show me one more thing, aren’t you?”

Taylor nods. “Grand finale,” he says, then grabs Connor’s arm one more time. 

 

It’s the hallway of the house they were in before, but he’s picking up details he didn’t see the first time -- there are photos of the three of them in the hallway that Future-Connor passes without a second glance, and three key hooks by the door.

They live here. They  _ all  _ live here. 

Connor and Taylor follow Future-Connor through the hall, hook the same left he makes and Taylor groans. 

“My poor innocent eyes,” Taylor crows, throwing his hands in front of his face.

Connor snorts a laugh. “Don’t even start with that.” 

Dylan’s head has already popped up by the time he turns back to the three in front of him.

“Hey,” he hears Alex say. “You’re back early.” 

He watches the smirk spread across Future-Connor’s face as he walks over to the couch, leans in and kisses Alex right on the lips.

“Meeting wrapped up pretty quick when I told them I wasn’t planning on re-signing,” Future-Connor says.

Connor swallows, watches as Dylan and Alex adjust so that they’re sitting up, full attention on him. 

“Who’s on the short list?” Dylan asks, small and a little timid in the way Connor knows he gets when he doesn’t want to admit he’s a little scared. 

“I’m not even sure, to be honest,” Future-Connor says, leaning down for a kiss from Dylan as well. “I don’t think I have brain cells left after talking with them for even that long.” 

“Good thing we know how to distract you,” Alex says, that same smug tone coming back as he trails his fingers up Future-Connor’s arm. 

Alex kisses him again, the edges of his vision start to fray, and Connor knows he’ll have to save the rest of this for another day. 

/

They’re back at Timmies when he opens his eyes, and Taylor’s peering at him over his coffee cup. 

“Told you,” he says, taking another sip before popping a timbit into his mouth. 

Connor’s still trying to catch his breath, blink the blurriness out of his eyes, but even he can admit when he’s been ‘I-told-you-so’d. 

“I have to talk to them,” Connor says, putting his head in his hands. 

“No shit,” Taylor says, still with a mouthful of donut hole. 

Connor shakes his head. “No, like  _ now _ . I gotta go.” 

Taylor smiles, a little bemused. “I’ll drive you. Let’s go, loverboy.” 

The drive to Dylan and Alex’s isn’t a far one but it still gives Connor all the time in the world to overthink what he’s going to say.

“How do I even--” Connor starts, cuts himself off with a laugh. “What if I fuck everything up? What if I’m just projecting, or--” 

“Oh my god,”  Taylor says, pulling into their billets driveway just enough to not disturb the game of three-bar Dylan and Alex are playing closer to the backyard. He honks twice, then throws the car in park and gets out, waits for Connor to do the same. 

Alex groans as Dylan hits the crossbar, effectively eliminating him from this game of one-on-one, but it does turn his attention to Connor and Taylor as they make their way up the driveway. 

“I don’t know why you’re always surprised that he wins,” Connor calls while Dylan is still walking around the driveway with his hands in the air in celebration. “He does this every time.” 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Dylan says, coming over and fistbumping Connor while Alex rolls his eyes. “See, Davo gets it.”

“Only because he’s the only one that consistently kicks your ass in this,” Alex says. “You need to give him a handicap.” 

“ _ O- _ kay, I’m out of here before I suffocate from this--” Taylor says, waving his hand in the general direction of the three of them. “Have fun making heart-eyes at each other when you figure your shit out.”

Alex drops his stick, tries to catch it before it clatters to the pavement and Connor can feel his eyes grow wide. 

Taylor just shrugs, gives a two-finger salute and says, “I rest my case. Good luck, boys.” 

“Figure our shit out?” Dylan says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Davo, what is he--” 

“My shit, mostly,” Connor says on the exhale of a deep, shuddery breath. “Because I’ve been sitting here watching you two be all --” he waves between the two of them -- “and Raddy thinks that you guys feel the same way about me as I do about you and I’m just--”

“I  _ told  _ you we should’ve just said something before Raddy got involved,” Dylan interrupts, smacking Alex in the arm. “Didn’t I tell you?” 

Alex rolls his eyes, rubs at the spot on his arm. “Once or twice.” 

“Hold on,” Connor says, blinking. “I’m missing something here.” 

“Not anymore,” Alex says, a little sheepish as he scratches at the nape of his neck. “We just didn’t know how to say it, you know? But we, uh -- Taylor’s right, Davo. We  _ do _ like you like that.” 

It’s the ultimate record scratch in his head, everything but his heart coming to a jarring halt. 

He looks away from Alex to look at Dylan, who’s got this look on his face that Connor’s only used to seeing aimed at Alex. 

“We’re in, Davo,” Dylan says, lightly nudging Connor with his shoulder. “Pretty sure we always have been.”

“Well it’s about time you clued me in,” Connor manages, the lump in his throat starting to go away.

It’s worth it for the way he can’t stop laughing when Alex and Dylan go another round of three-bar for who gets to kiss him first. 

Dylan wins, as per usual.

//

Connor’s seen this day before, he realizes. He can’t even pinpoint when, or what he thought it was when he first saw it.

He definitely didn’t see the Stanley Cup in his backyard the first time around, that’s for sure. 

Dylan and Alex are in the kitchen, bickering over where food is getting set down, bickering over why they didn’t let the caterer just set it up like they offered to, stopping bickering to feed each other bits of whatever’s on the platters.

Connor knows what his face is doing -- something like fond mixed with bemused. Something like love.

“What’s with the face?” Dylan says, popping another cheese cube into his mouth. He still hasn’t shaved and it… doesn’t even look awful. Love does crazy things to you, Connor’s come to realize. 

He shakes his head gently, throws an arm around Alex as he comes to investigate the food platters for himself. 

“Nothing,” he says, pressing a kiss to the playoff beard still on Alex’s face. “Just a bit of deja vu.” 

The other two shrug it off, the doorbell rings, and for once Connor can sink into remembering. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i'll add socials and such after author reveals but thank you for reading!


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